


We Navigate A Rocky Road

by TinkerBella



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 16:06:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8807332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinkerBella/pseuds/TinkerBella
Summary: DesertOrchid7485 asked for a tag for Cork Screw with some Mac whump because, let's face it, running away from an assassin is not as easy as it might seem.  So here it is.  Hope you all enjoy.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesertOrchid7485](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=DesertOrchid7485).



After apologizing to Bozer for lying to him, Mac felt hope that he would someday be forgiven. Bozer's hug and his relief that Mac was alive felt like a step in the right direction. What wasn't a step in the right direction was Bozer telling him that he wasn't allowed to leave yet. 

 

MacGyver frowned. "Who told you that?" he demanded. 

 

"One of the muckety mucks in a suit," Bozer replied, frowning as he gave Mac the once over. "It's okay, I get it. They haven't figured out what to do to me after everything that happened, due process and all, I'm sure. But you...you need to go home and get some sleep. You look exhausted, Mac."

 

"I'm fine, Bozer." Mac waved off his concern. "You're the one I'm worried about. This is all my fault. I'm so sorry...I wish I knew how to fix this."

 

Bozer looked surprised. "Dude, chill out. I can handle one night away from home, besides which I'm not really ready to face the reality of what happened just yet." Mustering a sincere smile, Bozer mock-punched MacGyver in the shoulder. "Seriously, get out of here. You look terrible, dude."

 

MacGyver feigned being offended. "Gee, thanks," he drawled, but he turned towards the door. "Call me if you need me."

 

"I would, if I had my phone." Now Bozer looked glum. But he shooed Mac out. "They're going to give it back. Go home."

 

"Okay." Mac left, but not to go home. Instead he headed straight to Thornton's office. He knocked, but barely waited for her to respond before he entered. 

 

She didn't look surprised to see him. "I've been expecting you, Mac."

 

He looked at her arm, cradled in a sling. "Are you okay?" MacGyver hadn't forgotten about the fact that she had gotten shot on his watch.

 

"I'm fine." Thornton perched on the corner of her desk. "I'm guessing this is about Bozer?"

 

"Why are you keeping him here?" MacGyver demanded, letting his frustration flow. "He's done nothing wrong and you know that! He's a victim, not a criminal!"

 

Thornton remained unruffled in the face of Mac's ranting. When he ran out of steam she said quietly, "It's not like he has anywhere else to go right now. Speaking of which, the clean up at your place will be finished by tomorrow night. Meanwhile I can set you up wherever you like."

 

From the door way a familiar voice interjected, "It's all good, Patty. Mac's coming home with me." He looked at MacGyver and held up a duffle bag, one of a couple of *go bags* that they all kept packed and at the ready. "Come on, Bro...I've got your stuff."

 

Knowing that Thornton wasn't really the bad guy here, Mac turned to leave with Jack.

 

"Mac..." Thornton moved to intercept him. "For the record, keeping Bozer here until he's cleared is coming from the top. Way over my pay grade."

 

"I know." Mac sighed. "I know that you're just doing your job, but that doesn't mean I agree with it...or like it."

 

Thornton nodded. "Same here." She offered what passed for a smile and waved him out with her good arm. "Go get some sleep. You look beat."

 

MacGyver frowned. "Why does everyone keep saying that?" It was starting to get annoying.

 

"Good night, Mac," Thornton said firmly, nudging him towards the door.

 

"Let's go, partner." Jack pulled him over the threshold and they walked, in step, to his car. The ride to his place was made in silence. They were both tired.

 

Parking the car, Jack grabbed his and MacGyver's go bags. After shutting the trunk he turned to follow the younger man up the driveway, noticing that Mac was limping. Jack chose not to comment on it, just yet. He slipped past the kid to unlock the door and, once inside, he commented, "I'm hungry. I'm going make a snack or something. Why don't you snag the first shower?"

 

MacGyver took his go bag and turned towards the guest room. "Sounds good." He set his bag on the bed and gathered the clothing he needed.

 

"You want me to make you a sandwich?" Jack asked from the doorway. MacGyver had limped all the way into the room and now Jack was getting worried. For him to be limping and unaware of it meant two things. One, he was too tired to focus on hiding the pain - but at the same time he felt safe enough in Jack's presence to be vulnerable. And, two, he was hurting more than he would ever admit to. The kid had a ridiculously high threshold for pain. That Mac trusted Jack enough to reveal his pain warmed Jack's heart, but that he was hurting in the first place and hadn't told him - that concerned Jack. 

 

"No...I'm good," Mac replied, before disappearing into the bathroom.

 

Returning to the kitchen, Jack ended up making three sandwiches anyway. By the time Mac came out, ten minutes later, dressed in sweat pants and a MIT t-shirt, Jack had finished one sandwich and was nearly done with the second one. He watched the kid limp over to the counter, slender fingers rubbing his forehead. Jack knew what that meant. Pulling a bottled water from the fridge and a bottle of Ibuprofen from a drawer, Jack set them both next to the third sandwich as Mac sat down.

 

Arching an eyebrow at Jack, MacGyver grabbed the water bottle, ignoring everything else. 

 

So Jack opened the Ibruprofen and shook three pills into his palm, which he held out to MacGyver. "Take the damn pills, kid. Don't make me sit on you. Remember Istanbul? Good times." Jack grinned as he let his mind wander back to two years ago when MacGyver had gotten knocked out by the butt of a gun to the back of his skull. Obviously hurting, MacGyver had refused to take anything so Jack had cuffed one of his wrists to a table leg before - literally - sitting on him and forcing the pills down his throat. After which he had calmly gotten up, un-cuffed Mac and returned to his seat.

 

Sighing, MacGyver let Jack dump the pills into his own palm. He tossed them into his mouth and swallowed them with a gulp of water, all the while glaring at Jack. The intensity of the glare increased when the sandwich plate was pushed in his direction. "I told you I didn't want anything."

 

"I know." Jack just smiled and shrugged. "But that doesn't mean you don't need it. You haven't eaten in over twenty-four hours, Mac."

 

"I'm aware." Resisting the urge to sigh, MacGyver massaged his temples then offered a compromise. "I'll eat something later, promise."

 

Because Mac had promised, Jack let it go. For now. The kid always kept his promises. He returned his attention to finishing his own sandwich as he queried, "So which is it, your knee or your ankle? My money is on your ankle."

 

Mac frowned at his friend, totally confused. "What are you talking about?"

 

"You're limping when you walk," Jack explained. "So what happened?"

 

"Nothing happened," Mac countered. He caught the other man's look disbelief and knew Jack wasn't going to let this go, so it would be easier just to confess. "It's no big deal, I just slid a bit on the gravel in the junk yard." He hoped that was explanation enough to get him off the hook.

 

Jack was quiet for a moment, considering. "You mean when you were running around being chased, and shot at, by Murdoc?" Just thinking about it again made Jack's blood boil, but he made himself simmer down.

 

MacGyver frowned, wondering what Jack was getting at. "Yeah...then."

 

"So it's your ankle?" Jack prompted. At MacGyver's nod he continued. "How bad is it, and why didn't you say something sooner?"

 

"I didn't say anything period," Mac pointed out. But he knew Jack was going to be like a dog with a bone until he was satisfied. A damn pit bull with a bone. "Look...I just twisted it a little. It's fine."

 

Jack snorted. "Uh huh. MY definition of fine or YOUR definition of fine?" Because we both know they're not the same thing."

 

MacGyver had the perfect come back. "Webster's ninth new collegiate dictionary's definition of fine, number six. As in - I feel *fine* - meaning *very well*. Satisfied?"

 

"Nope." Jack moved around the counter and stood in front of Mac. "Let's see it."

 

"Not happening." MacGyver knew exactly what Jack's reaction would be and he didn't want to deal with it. 

 

Jack wasn't the least bit put out, instead he crossed his arms over his chest and started grinning. "I guess you really do want a repeat performance of Istanbul." He took a step closer, still grinning.

 

Mac put up both hands to stop him. "Fine...you win." Crossing his right leg over his left, MacGyver rolled the sweat pant's leg up and his sock down. He couldn't help but grimace at the sight of his swollen and bruised ankle.

 

"Pretty colors," Jack said, whistling in admiration, even though he knew it had to hurt like a bitch. "I'll get the ice pack, you go hobble over onto the couch." He would have preferred to get the kid into bed where he could get the rest he so desperately needed, but Jack knew neither one of them were ready to sleep.

 

"I don't need an ice pack!" Mac argued, as he tugged his sock back up and the sweat pant's leg back down. He waited for Jack's comeback and was surprised when none was forth coming. Glancing up he saw Jack giving him the stink eye before pointing at the couch. Knowing he wasn't going to win this one, Mac eased himself up off the stool and slowly made his way over to the rumpled and over-stuffed, brown leather couch. Wincing all the way, he forced himself not to limp because he knew he was being watched.

 

Jack followed close behind, ice pack in hand. The moment MacGyver was seated he grabbed a pillow and placed it under the kid's leg on top of the coffee table, before draping the ice pack over his ankle. "You comfy?" he asked, before grabbing the remote and holding it out.

 

MacGyver accepted it, resisting the urge to sigh as he resigned himself to being coddled for the time being. "Comfy as can be," he drawled, oozing sarcasm and not even trying to hide it.

 

"Any other injuries I should know about?" Jack was ready to check for them if necessary. Some day he was going to have a serious, sit-down, chat with the kid about being honest when he was injured.

 

"Can't think of any." Mac clicked on the television and flicked through channels without actually paying attention to what was on.

 

Jack shook his head, debating on whether or not he could take MacGyver's word at truth at this point. "You being straight with me?" He knew the kid was messed up more than in just the physical sense. He also knew Mac was angry with him for making him stay behind when the rest of the team went after Murdoc. That conversation was in Jack's future, of that he had no doubt.

 

MacGyver turned up the volume just to be obtuse, pretending for the moment that he hadn't heard the question. Only for Jack to grab the remote and hit mute before glaring at him. Feeling a bit ornery, Mac glared back and snapped, "Why don't you go Mother Hen Thornton? She's the one who got shot?" The moment he said it the wind got sucked out of MacGyver's sails, because he was the reason she had gotten shot.

 

"Nah," Jack drawled, dropping down into a sprawl next to Mac. "Patty's fine. She's tough."

 

"Are you saying I'm not tough?" Now MacGyver was feeling offended.

 

Jack sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face before rubbing at his gritty eyes. "Look, Mac...what I'm saying is that you've had one of the baddest of bad days in the history of bad days today. And when that ginormous brain of yours is trying to compartmentalize the mental and emotional aspects of the chaos...you tend to overlook or ignore the physical stuff. Add in the fact that you seem to have an aversion to admitting to any kind of physical disability...well, I have no other option but to act all Mother Hen over you."

 

Needing something to do with his hands, MacGyver grabbed a ratty throw pillow and hugged it to his chest. He was aware that he was using it as a means to creating a barrier, but he didn't know what he was trying to protect himself from. Taking a moment to mull over what Jack was saying, because his friend only said the things he did because he cared, Mac finally stated, "I'm doing okay." At this point that was as honest as he could get.

 

"Okay." Jack would accept that for now. He would let MacGyver process in peace until the kid was ready to share. Or, until Jack knew it was the right time to push him to share. For now they would simply chill out and rest up. Sprawling down onto the couch next to his partner, Jack clicked onto Netflix. "So what episode of The Big Bang Theory are we up to?"

 

"Twelve, I think." Mac was relieved to be let off the hook for now. Later he and Jack were going to talk about him being left behind, and Jack yanking at his emotional chain to get him to agree to it. But, for now, MacGyver was content to let everything go for a couple of hours and just indulge in mindless bickering with Jack. Who insisted that Mac was seriously Sheldon's twin in another life. 

 

About four episodes in to their binge watch, MacGyver was serenaded by Jack's snoring. He switched over to the cooking channel then slipped off the couch, putting the second ice-pack back into the freezer. In true Jack fashion, he had made sure to keep Mac's ankle iced. Admittedly, it did feel better, if a bit numb.

 

Moving quietly, MacGyver slipped into the bathroom. He knew Jack kept a well stocked first aid kit. Mac removed a 3-inch wide flexible ace bandage and, sitting on the closed toilet seat, he carefully wrapped his ankle for support. That done, he headed into the guest room and got dressed. With a little luck he would be back before Jack woke up, but right now he need some time to think and reflect on the days events. And, more than that, he needed a strong cup of coffee. 

 

Leaving the house with the keys to Jack's car in hand, Mac slid behind the wheel and eased down the driveway. He knew a diner that was out of the way that was open all night.

 

He didn't see his partner peeking out the window and watching him go. But if he had he would have known that, just like Jack had said earlier, even at a distance, he would always have Mac's back.

 

THE END


End file.
